Vivacious
by Music Intuition
Summary: He can't quite put his finger on her, mostly because, unlike every other girl he's ever met, he can't explain her in three sentences or less. - MangaQuestShipping; Gold & Crystal. Part of 'Boxes of Chocolates'.
1. shoes

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_shoes_

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Crystal bites her lip and limps cautiously toward a small boulder, then sinks to the ground, clutching her ankle. She nearly lets a curse escape her lips, but stops herself. Obviously, she should not have gone hiking in this pair of shoes. Toms may be wonderful for the poor children of Orre and Almia, but they just don't offer the necessary support to her feet.

"Super Serious Gal, are you okay?" she hears. Stupid Gold. Stupid Gold and his inquisitive side. Of course he wants to know why she just walked away from him. He'd be brilliant as a scientist, she thinks wryly, with the way that brain of his is always whirling and coming up with new ideas. Too bad he's busy fooling around like some punk kid all the time.

"Erm. Yeah. I'm fine," she lies as tears well up at the corners of her light blue eyes. She has her back to him. That way, he can't decipher the obvious lie in the way she winces and her fingertips turn white from pressure (because she's gripping the rock like it's all she has to hold onto for life).

He starts babbling happily then, obviously believing her little white lie. She sighs and smiles slightly. Despite herself, she's willing to put up with a lot from him. Despite herself, she listens to his ranting about the latest radio programs (she's never heard of any of them) and chuckles at his outburst about gambling.

"Why do you waste your money gambling?" she asks, wanting to continue the conversation. "You could just save it."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he replies. _Such a kid_. "It's so much more fun to risk it all on a game of pool! Especially when I know I'll win."

She sighs, putting a hand against her swollen forehead. "Only because you cheat…"

Even though her back is turned, she can see his roguish grin in her mind. "Aw, c'mon, Crystal. Put yourself in my shoes! Imagine how you'd act if you had no money."

She snorts, rubbing at the long tendon between her foot and her lower leg. Obviously strained. "I would get a perfectly reasonable job. _Because that's how normal, respectable people make money_."

He walks up behind her, but thanks to his quiet running shoes, she doesn't hear a thing. She nearly jumps out of her track suit when he puts a hand on her shoulder and just barely squeezes, just enough to make her edgy. "Eh, but I'm not a respectable person, am I… Super-Serious Gal?"

She flushes bright red and turns away. "Let's just keep going, okay? I have to get home soon." Anything to get away from Gold and his inescapable grin. She ignores the red-hot pain in her ankle and hurriedly hobbles away.

At that moment, the worst pair of shoes in the world couldn't have kept her from hiking down that mountain.

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**_Author's Note_**_: This piece is the ninth part of the ten-portioned series 'Boxes of Chocolates'. Each encounter is a private love note, and each of the separately–published stories will cover a different shipping. Each chapter is a different drabble about the shipping; I'll do five per story, possibly more._

_The full list: SpecialShipping (Ambiguous), AgencyShipping (Menial), FranticShipping (Tenacious), ChosenShipping (Exploitable), PanderShipping (Retrospective), CommonerShipping (Parametric), FeelingShipping (Harmonic), OldRivalShipping (Stoic), MangaQuestShipping (Vivacious), and HaughtyShipping (Loquacious). I'm perfectly well aware that the publishing format I ended up deciding on is annoying, but I figured that dividing it up by shipping would be the best way for everyone involved to pick and choose which ones they would like to read, without being 'exposed' to opposing shippings. _

_Please take a look at the others, if you like this one, and enjoy. (For the record, they won't be published until I actually finish writing the first drabble for each of them. I didn't want to spam the forum completely, so… just keep an eye open, I guess. They'll be in the order above.) _

_Also, I should mention that these aren't necessarily sequential. I write what I can, based on the theme I'm given._


	2. swing

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_swing_

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There's that song on the radio, the one that plays in his head every time he thinks of her. And he thinks about her quite a lot.

He is fifteen and a little too much a dreamer. He's that kid that sits on his pool table alone, tossing the cue ball up and catching it, rocking back and forth to the music on the radio.

And _that_ song on the radio.

It only plays late at night on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when the DJ changes it up with a 'slow jam' session. That means jazz. That means swing.

And that means _that song_.

In Gold's mind, she's the one pivoting, rocking with him on heels, the lively tune knocking through the uniformed steps. Blue hair unraveled, curling down her back, fair white dress floating at her knees… or maybe her thighs.

And it's more. He wants to feel her close to him. He wants to taste her lips, smell her hair, hear her languishing breath beside him.

That song. It's her heartbeat, his mind, their rhythm.

But at the end of the night, the only dance partner Gold has had is his pillow (the same pillow that he clutches as he realizes that he's just fifteen and he can't have the dance he wants yet.


	3. rise and fall

**_Author's Note: _**_This particular drabble was inspired by a picture [purety-dot-jp/flowers/main2/gc33-dot-jpg] - replacing the [-dot-]s. I hope you enjoy; this was a difficult piece to think of._

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_rise and fall_

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She wakes up to the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His arms are strewn about like limp noodles. His legs are propped against the arm of the couch. There is a stream of drool from the side of his mouth, extending all the way to the base of his neck.

She doesn't remember falling asleep like this. She's curled against his stomach, legs against his side, arm over his shoulder. It takes her a moment to realize that she's still wearing the summer dress that she'd put on the previous evening. He's in a white shirt and slacks.

She recalls getting in early last night; it had been the microwave dinner kind of night - popping a dish of pasta, macaroni, and broccoli into the microwave and watching sitcoms as they ate. Gold had been oddly quiet; perhaps the get-together with the others had worn him out. Crystal didn't mind, relishing the peace and quiet for once.

As always, the volume on the television slowly declined as their interest waned, and their sitting positions reclined from upright to... Well, to their current position. Apparently, they've fallen asleep.

Understanding what had occurred, Crystal glances to the window. The predawn light filters through white curtains like the lamps on the bottom of a Koi pond. The mantle over the fireplace holds a variety of trinkets and decorations as well; Crystal's porcelain vase filled with wildflowers, juxtaposed to a statue of a typhlosion that Cold had bought at a flea market. Peculiar, strange items, meaning nothing except love.

There's a clock somewhere in the mantle as well, but she doesn't really care. Instead, she settles back into Gold's chest and sinks into sleep. For now, she can rest.


End file.
